


天泣  てんきゅう (rain from a cloudless sky)

by tvxq



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, age gap-ish, it's a matter of before-bed beverages and doctor's appointments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvxq/pseuds/tvxq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>joonmyun walks and sehun waits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	天泣  てんきゅう (rain from a cloudless sky)

**Author's Note:**

> • this was written over a few weeks dedicated to a soft love for seho and an appreciation of warm milk with honey and cinnamon   
>  • unspecified/implied age-gap

joonmyun’s stop at the subway is decidedly empty. he pushes along through the november air, regardless. it’s too early for winter, sehun has whined, but he still lets joonmyun wind fingers around his collar to fix it up. “don’t get a cold.” joonmyun always says, and sehun always never listens.

he prefers driving across mapo bridge, where he can watch the sun settle over the han. it’s nice, driving, sehun plays with all of the buttons in his car and turns the radio up and then down when he’s bored, only stopping when joonmyun settles a careful, authoritative hand on his thin wrist, no words exchanged but sehun’s kicked puppy-pout communication enough.

it’s too late to watch the sun as they cross over into the education district of dohwa - instead joonmyun takes a taxi from kbs to the subway. he’d left the audi in lockup underneath his apartment, walked to work, after taking the train with sehun to saetgang, where he’d spent the day, joonmyun wondering softly, when he’d see him again.

half one is too late for anyone to be awake, joonmyun thinks, smoothing out invisible wrinkles against his versace button down. nobody is around to judge him on the pristine condition of his dress pants, or whether the cuff against his wrist is valentino or not. still, joonmyun pushes down at his his shirt and sighs.

it’s cold. it won’t snow until early december, but joonmyun can easily imagine sleet underneath his leather loafers. sehun’s thin canvas shoes soaked as they walk side by side to a restaurant when joonmyun’s dishes pile up and he feels too sheepish to sit around in his own disorganisation.

the walk home is quiet; kinda long. joonmyun likes the silence. expects to come home to it, sehun crashes with jongin and chanyeol most nights in mapo, their shared apartment that joonmyun’s only seen twice, dropping a too-tired sehun home half way through midterms. a den of video games and comic books, every bit the teenager that they all are. joonmyun rubs at his temples; he’s too old for this.

still, he hikes up his feet and keeps going as november pushes not-yet snow onto his cheeks, skin reddening with frostbite. joonmyun fiddles with his cuffs for a second, and tries to dodge another light gust of wind. maybe it will warm up tomorrow; he doubts it. the sun rarely shows itself this late in november, preparing to disappear for three months over the winter holidays. joonmyun shivers at the thought of more cold, and five steps later he’s at his apartment building.

the doorman works from 6 til 8, joonmyun’s long missed the man, so he lets himself into the lobby and decides for elevators instead of stairs. he’s never particularly enjoyed the music in the lift, but endures it. he endures the dim lighting of the hallway and the clean, grey carpet too.

joonmyun goes to find his keys, but twists the bronzed handle of his door to find it unlocked. he blinks, stepping into his apartment, and can hear the feint buzz of the tv in the background. it’s 1:43, he thinks, wondering why, his television is on. placing his keys in the delicate porcelain bowl on his bench top, hanging up his coat and toeing out of his shoes, joonmyun wonders some more.

when he ducks into the lounge room, there’s an informercial on the plasma screen tv. a woman selling vacuum cleaners, turned down, like whoever had turned it isn’t really watching television. sehun is draped across the sofa. joonmyun smiles without thinking, and wanders toward him.

sehun’s still in the loose shirt and jeans he’d been wearing when joonmyun saw him last. kids clothes, a snapback on the armchair of the sofa. the tips of his ashen dark hair lie against the couch, and joonmyun wonders if he’s still awake, shifting to run a steady hand through his hair.

“hyung?” sehun mumbles, mouth pressed into the suede fabric. “couldn’t sleep.” he says, as if he’s attempting to explain why, he’s here, and not where he should be and joonmyun smiles harder without realising it, gazing down at sehun curling a little more into himself. joonmyun wonders if he’s cold, and purses his lips.

“you’re meant to be staying with jongin.” joonmyun hums, keeping his fingers steadily grazing sehun’s scalp. he sits on the armrest by sehun’s head, placing his cap carefully behind him.

“i wanted warm milk,” sehun says, a little louder - waking up like a cat, slowly. he stretches, but doesn’t meow. he purrs, though, when joonmyun’s fingers settle at the crown of his head fondly, where they always fall when they’re together. “but you weren’t home. so i waited.”

“you stayed up for warm milk?” joonmyun says, smiling without sehun being able to see. sehun’s hair is soft, like silk, unbrushed but still smooth. he smells vaguely like joonmyun’s coconut conditioner and the the soft scent of seoul winter that no doubt clings to his canvas shoes. joonmyun wonders, fondly, if he’d remembered to put a scarf on. he doesn’t think so.

sehun makes an annoyed noise. “yes.” he admits, and joonmyun thinks, you’re so young, you’re still just a baby. there’s freckles on his cheeks, dainty little things, just cast across his face and joonmyun wonders, for a second, how gratifying it would be, to bring sehun to a work function, where nobody under twenty five is in sight. there’d be a riot, he thinks, and buries the thought. he doesn’t have to think about work until tomorrow, and he’s sitting in traffic in his audi, telling himself he won’t miss his meeting.

it seems awfully faraway, when it’s really only a matter of hours before joonmyun has to leave again.

“you shouldn’t have stayed up.” joonmyun chastises, but he doesn’t really mean it at all, because joonmyun knows that he’s the only person sehun really listens to, even though he doesn’t, not at all.

“but i did.” sehun says, and it looks so funny, when he’s like this, curled up on joonmyun’s sofa quietly, so tiny, when he towers over joonmyun on the best of days, and his broad shoulders seem like they can carry all the worries that curl up behind joonmyun’s eyes when he smiles, gathering wrinkles where sehun won’t for years. the gap seems so much smaller, here, with joonmyun’s fingers in sehun’s hair.

“but you did.” joonmyun echoes, and his voice is hollow. sehun, who’s much, much wiser then he looks, sits up. joonmyun puts his hand back, politely in his lap. sehun looks disorientated, as all the blood rushes to his head and joonmyun wonders just how long he’s been sitting on the sofa, looking at the door expectantly, like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home. only that’s a stupid comparison to make, because it’s oh sehun, with the ever-changing hair and the smile that nobody ever sees, who goes where he wants and sleeps where he pleases but stays with nobody. nobody but joonmyun.

“hyung,” sehun says, once he’s come to, hanging his long legs over the edge of the couch and leaning into joonmyun, who, only by sitting on the armrest, is taller then him. sehun’s head reaches just under his arm, and his cheek sits against joonmyun’s ribs. maybe he can hear the way joonmyun’s heart is only steady when they’re together. maybe he can’t. “you think too loud.” sehun complains, quietly.

joonmyun tries not to laugh. “sorry, sehunnie.”

“stop apologising,” sehun says, and joonmyun wonders when he became the boss. “and stop worrying.” he twists his head, and he’s looking right at joonmyun with those tired, tired eyes

“sorry sehunnie.” joonmyun parrots, and sehun huffs. joonmyun laughs.

“ _stop_. make me some warm milk.”

“okay,” joonmyun says, reaching down to smooth out the lines of consideration on sehun’s forehead. he’s too young to worry. “go hop into bed. i’ll be there in a minute.”

sehun looks like he isn’t going to listen, but he does, and before he goes, joonmyun presses a kiss to the back of his hand, and pretends he doesn’t see when sehun’s lips curve up as he wanders out of the lounge room and down the hall.

tired, joonmyun stands. sehun takes his warm milk with honey and cinnamon. joonmyun opens the cabinet, and sehun’s very own mug is there, right next to joonmyun’s favourite mug. it’s light blue, and joonmyun had bought it when they’d been to the yeongdeungpo flower festival together, for sehun’s birthday last april.

he thinks about sehun’s mug in his cabinet, his own coconut shampoo clinging to sehun like cologne, the spare toothbrush in his ensuite, the spare pair of jeans and the spiderman tee that he keeps in a drawer in his wardrobe, for when sehun forgets to use an umbrella, and complains about being too cold. he thinks about the red scarf sehun doesn’t wear, because he doesn’t like the colour, but then how it’s easy enough to distract sehun with a kiss, right on the lips, enough for joonmyun to slip the scarf around his neck. he thinks about how sehun’s a second year college student, and how he was still in high school when joonmyun had been given his degree and his mind, spins.

the mug is still empty when joonmyun feels sehun’s too-long arms curl around his waist, and hand splayed across his abdomen lazily, like sehun is too exhausted to hold himself up. maybe he is. joonmyun worries, but he leans into the touch.

“sorry.” he says, without really thinking, and sehun’s jaw sits on his shoulder with a jut.

“i could hear you worrying from the other room.” sehun chastises, this time, and joonmyun covers his hand with his own. “what’s wrong, hyung?”

“don’t pry.” joonmyun says lightly, teasing. sehun doesn’t laugh, but joonmyun knows he’s smiling.

“don’t _worry_.” sehun teases back, scoffing, nearly, and joonmyun does laugh, but quietly.

“it’s nothing sehunnie. work is tiring.” joonmyun pulls the honey down from above the microwave, where it sits when sehun leaves it from making warm milk for himself in the middle of the night. the cinnamon is on the spice rack, a little harder to reach.

“tired, old man?” sehun says, voice light. “your joints acting up again?” joonmyun laughs, in earnest this time, and slaps sehun on the hand.

“rude punk. grab the cinnamon.” sehun’s arms are so long, and reach it easily around joonmyun.

when sehun’s milk is done, joonmyun puts it in the microwave and closes the door. sehun’s already pressing the buttons, like a curious toddler.

“i need to get child locks for everything.” joonmyun jokes, because this is what they do, because sehun is so young and joonmyun is not and it’s almost the cosmic joke that is their life that joonmyun feels eyes on him wherever he goes, eyes that know.

sehun laughs this time, and joonmyun’s always loved music, but this is his favourite song.

they clean up together, which entails joonmyun packing up, and sehun clinging softly too his waist, refusing to move. grinning, they manage it, and by the time the kitchen is clean, the microwave beeps and sehun’s obligatory warm milk is done. taking it out and stirring it, joonmyun gestures toward the bedroom.

“go,” he says, “i’ll bring this.”

sehun huffs. “don’t trust me with a mug of warm milk? i see how it is.” and then he pouts, and joonmyun kinda wants to kiss it off his face. sehun’s laugh plays, over and over, like a record stuck on repeat. it’s a melody he can’t quite shake, the same sounds repeating, a mantra.

“ _no_ , i don’t,” he says, half-honestly. “my carpet is worth more then you’d think.”

sehun rolls his eyes. “only the best for a rich-kid like you. we’re in gangnam, what did i expect?” he teases, still just as light, but joonmyun tastes the bite to his words, but doesn’t wince. it’s a game, almost. a push and pull. to see who can get away with what.

“you’re just butt-hurt because you spill stuff.” joonmyun informs him, and sehun looks half-offended, but still wearing his bored, resting tired eyes and joonmyun thinks he’s adorable. sehun throws him another look across the hallway, and joonmyun grins at him before he opens the door to the bedroom and kicks the door open softly with his foot.

sehun squirms past a startled joonmyun, and launches himself onto the once-perfectly made bed in the centre of joonmyun’s room. there’s a keyboard by the window, four thick glass panels lining joonmyun’s north wall, a perfect view of the city hidden behind the venetian blinds.

sehun rolls over, facing the ceiling and breathing in. he glances at joonmyun, who sets sehun’s warm milk down on the bedside table and loosens his tie.

“you know, of all my hyungs, your bedroom is my favourite.” sehun’s smirking, and they’re back to the same push and pull.

joonmyun pulls his tie off, dropping it on the floor, staring pointedly at sehun.

“i bet you say that to all your rich-gangnam hyungs.” he scoffs, the same tease, and sehun sniggers around the mug of warm milk, taking in a mouthful, then another.

“no, hyung, just you.” he beams, and joonmyun rolls his eyes playfully. sehun stays still, after that, and he’s just looking out at the city. eyes wide, almost - as wide as sehun will allow. just _watching_ \- drinking warm milk and thinking about things. he’s never like this, disarmed and vulnerable and loose - teasing and smiley. joonmyun watches sehun disappear into the hongdae street some nights with his hood drawn taut and a thin crease across his eyebrows. he wonders, who else sees sehun like this, and purses his lips instead.

“thinking again.” sehun informs him, almost singing, and joonmyun really does wonder if sehun is some kind of telepathic.

“sorry.” he grumbles, and sehun sits up on his elbow to frown, lip sticking out in a pout. joonmyun goes to apologise again, for apologising, and sehun’s frown grows.

“ _stoppp_ ,” he draws out the word, testing the syllables, “hyung.” less of a word and more of a whine and joonmyun’s completely disarmed now. he sits down by the edge of the bed, wordless, and sehun frowns for a moment, before he puts the empty mug of warm milk back on the bedside table and pulls joonmyun down onto the bed. he allows himself to be pulled, tired and almost lifeless, with a brief smile.

“sehun, i’m still in my suit.” he says, and sehun pulls the versace jacket off of his arms with distaste, tossing it on the floor. his press down shirt still on, joonmyun waggles his eyebrows, almost daring sehun to take it off. he looks like he’s considering it, until sehun bites his lip.

“did you know my medical examination is in four weeks?” he says, completely out of character and completely off-topic. “if i accelerate correctly, get the right credit, i could be in a placement internship in five years.” he stares at joonmyun with a loaded gaze, like there’s so much more behind whatever he has to say. “that means, i’m the healthcare professional in the room.”

joonmyun grins. “okay doc." he says, and sehun glares, but there's no bite. or maybe there is. joonmyun is far too in love to notice, otherwise, and it's a jarring thought, if not a sense of perspective. 

“hop up,” he instructs, and joonmyun keeps his smile as he does what he’s told. sehun rearranges the pillows underneath him, and joonmyun thinks about how sleeping in his versace dress shirt is going to make it crinkled, and then he doesn’t think at all, staring up at sehun with blinking eyes.

“take a look at me,” joonmyun sighs, “what’s wrong with me doc?” he glances up, and sehun looks thoughtful. considering. adorable.

sehun surveys him. “you’ve been diagnosed with boring old man syndrome.” he says smoothly, and joonmyun laughs.

sehun wanders up to the door and closes it, flicking the light off. joonmyun itches to do it for him, to take care of sehun, who’s still just a baby, but sehun’s firm gaze warns him not to move. he wriggles his toes gleefully.

“what do you prescribe?” he asks, following sehun’s gaze around the room. the younger boy wanders around to the other side of the bed and drapes a sheet over the both of them. joonmyun doesn’t worry about it being too warm - it’s a seoul winter. it’s sehun he’s worried about, still in jeans and that thin shirt that slips off of his shoulders.

“rest and recovery.” sehun says thoughtfully, slipping under the covers. joonmyun opens his arms and sehun crawls into them without hesitation. tucking his head under joonmyun’s chin, sehun sighs, what feels like the first breath he’s taken all night, and joonmyun’s eyes close instinctively. “i think you’ll have to take some time off work. stop playing golf, go clubbing, or _something_.” he adds, and joonmyun grins.

“are you sure, doctor oh?”

“quite. it’s a serious case - the worst i’ve seen. call in and take tomorrow off.” sehun mumbles, and joonmyun thinks he might fall asleep at any time.

“doctor’s orders.” joonmyun agrees. half of him is thinking about all the bad things that could go wrong, about all the work he has waiting for him and all of things they’ll say - it’s the constant itch of stress whenever he thinks about it, hands twitching almost, and the other half of him has given up entirely. it’s late. he’s tired.

sehun’s voice, tiny and mumbly - a lisp, there, soft and scratchy. “hyung.” he says, and joonmyun is listening. “thinking.” is all he has to say. joonmyun smiles, kinda.

“sorry.” he apologises, and sehun makes a groan - all he can really manage, but, joonmyun can feel sehun’s grin, tucked into the crook of joonmyun’s neck, lazy and loose and tiny, tiny puffs of breath, warm against him, and he thinks, _oh, okay._

**Author's Note:**

> • i?? love??? seho??? it’s crazy wow   
>  • ye write more seho pls   
>  • positing this with my mobile data at 11pm rip me   
>  • if u read this i lov u


End file.
